


Confession

by the_alchemist



Category: Peter Pan - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-01
Updated: 2004-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:58:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_alchemist/pseuds/the_alchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Hook goes to Confession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in 2004.

Bo'sun Smee, as everyone knows, was the only non-conformist in Hook's crew. Cecco occasionally laid slices of human flesh in front of a small monkey-shaped idol in his cabin. The assumption was that this was some kind of religious observance, but nobody really liked to ask. It was generally believed that, these two pieties excepted, atheism was _de rigeur_ aboard the Jolly Roger. General belief was wrong.

Likewise, any fool could tell you that Captain James Hook had no mother. Which just goes to show you shouldn't listen to fools. Though the woman who gave him birth had died many years ago, the Captain was far from motherless.

_Hail Mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death._

She is the only pretty thing in the drab little dockside chapel. Her blue, white and gold paint is worn from all the cleaning, but none the worse for that. She holds out her hands in welcome, and her face shows a mother's love and delight in all the children who come to her, no matter how flawed.

He asks her to give him courage. What he wants is for her to take away his fear. That does not happen, but he nonetheless finds himself able to master it sufficiently to walk over to the box in the corner, and kneel down.

__

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

_It has been seven years since my last confession._

_Since then I have killed somewhere in the region of 500 men, women and children. I have stolen the cargoes of around 150 ships, committed approximately 200 rapes, blasphemed dozens of times each day and dishonoured both my mother and father in more ways than I am able to describe. I have not been to mass for three years, and when I went then it was only to steal the candlesticks from the altar, which I sold in order to fund a particularly degenerate fortnight of drinking and whoring._

_I have consistently treated my crew with cruelty and disdain. I have refused mercy to my captives, except when it gratified my pride to grant it. I have often harboured atheistical thoughts._

_I have hated. I have made hatred my art. There is someone… a boy… I'll call him David. I hate him so much that I can always feel it burning inside me, every hour of every day. It fuels me in everything I do. Sometimes I think it will burn all the rest of me away and there will be nothing left but my hatred. Sometimes I think that has already happened._

_I… I don't want to be like this, Father. I want to be able to love, but I can't. That child has… I mean I have… I mean sometimes I think there's no love left in me at all._

_For these, and for all my other sins which I cannot now remember, I am heartily sorry. I promise with the help of God to better my way of life; therefore I humbly ask you, Father, advice, penance and absolution._

There was a silence so long that the Captain wondered whether he was imagining the breathing beyond the metal grille. Perhaps there was no-one there. Then:

"Well, God be praised that you have returned to our Holy Mother Church at last. Be comforted, for no sin is too great for God's mercy.

I am at something of a loss to know how to advise you, or what penance to… well. Perhaps you could start by telling me a bit more about this boy. What leads you to hate him so much?"

So many things came into Hook's mind that he was at a loss for words. Then they all came tumbling out. His cockiness. The way he laughs at me. He makes me make a fool of myself. He never tires. He cut off my hand once, and now he wants to kill me. The way he flits around. His eyes. His teeth. His eternal grin.

He composes himself, and switches to an elegant little metaphor he composed one night in his cabin. He is proud of it, but it would be wasted on his crew, and so this is the first time he has uttered it aloud.

"Imagine a lion in a cage, and into that cage flies a butterfly. If the lion was free it would pay no heed to such a creature. But…"

The priest interrupts him.

"He cut off your hand, you say? A little boy? A big fellow like you? He must be very good at fighting."

"He is good at everything," the Captain hears himself admitting.

"And he makes you make a fool of yourself, does he? What does he do?"

"He once…" the Captain blushes with the shame of it. "He once made me believe I was a… a…"

"A what?"

"A codfish," admits the Captain in a very small voice.

"I'm sorry, being a very elderly priest, I didn't quite hear that. A what?"

"A CODFISH, Father."

"Well, you have done some very evil deeds, not least against this quite remarkable boy called Peter. Tut tut. As your penance, I want you to climb to the top of the church tower, and shout "I am a codfish" as loudly as you can, and then…"

"I said he was called David."

"Yes… but I recognised him. Peter Pan is famous, you see, he's quite the famousest boy in the world. Everybody knows and loves him."

"Who… who are you?"

"Guess. Say "Animal, Vegetable or Mineral" like you did before."

The Captain's coat rips in his haste to get out of the confessional, and his hat and wig are both knocked from his head. The boy is already out and waiting in the nave. He laughs hysterically at the man's ungainly exit. Rage has made the Captain clumsy. It is easy for Peter to dodge him, so he takes it out on the building – rips the altarcloth, smashes the windows, kicks the pews until the wood splinters. He spits in the face of the pretty little statue, and as he leaves he swears never again to enter a church, except for the purpose of desecration.

Peter thinks it's his best joke yet, but he wipes the face of the little wooden child-mother who looks so much like Wendy, and wonders why she is crying.


End file.
